Matrimonial Suicide
by Awaysky Gray
Summary: Iruka and Katana are sort of thrown together in this almost twistedly cute romantic tale of people who learn what it means to love and care for someone. This is my main story. I work in fragments, so sorry!
1. A Great Reward

**Sorry, this chapter might seem a little long . . . but it gets better soon. I just had to lay out the story quick so we could get to the good part. So . . . enjoy! I promise it gets better! Neonn, please read this! It's just like your "Engagement" story! Again, sorry it's so long (almost 3000 words!!). I promise you'll get to the funny/juicy stuff soon!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Iruka, or anything pertaining to the manga/anime Naruto. I do own the little girl and Masamune Hayake, though. And the plot.**

_A Great Reward_

All that could be heard was the sound of the breeze sweeping through the palm trees accompanied by the ambience of the white horses. Every once in a while, they would gallop up to shores of the Wave Nation where they would dance momentarily, then swiftly travel back again to the deep blue hue of the sparkling sea. The beach was anything but populated; every once in a while, someone would walk by the tanning man on the shore, but other than that, there wasn't much excitement.

It didn't bother him at all. This was _heaven_.

I can't believe I actually made it through until now. It's summer break—and now I get to relax for a month-and-a-half. No bratty kids, no tests to correct, no cramped, stuffy office or classroom. It's just the wide, blue sky above me, the white, warm sand below me, and . . . overexposure to the sun.

Iruka sat up after realizing he'd been in the sun's rays for close to four hours. Now he looked like an overcooked lobster, but to make it worse, he was wearing his sunglasses, which would give him a lovely raccoon tan. To make it better, he'd also been sleeping with his hand on his stomach. Now _that_ would be attractive. Wonderful. "Oh, how lovely," he groaned sarcastically, smiled at his oafish actions. It was better than complaining. He'd worked hard to get to his much needed vacation, and he wasn't going to let a funky tan get in his way. From the sun, he could tell it was about time to get back to the condo and find some place to eat dinner. So, with only minute complaining from the pain of his sunburn, he picked up his things and started back, only to stop short and realize that his flip flops were buried somewhere in the sand. Some kids had probably thought it might be entertaining to hide them from the sight of the sleeping man. No bother, he told himself. It didn't take long to find them, for the kids who'd buried them had marked the spot with the words "ha ha" made from rocks. Dumb kids, he thought. Just like in Konoha. So, he dug them up, smiling through the chore, and began the walk back to the condo.

The walk wasn't far, but Iruka enjoyed it all too much. The air here was so fresh, so reviving. I'm so glad I got here before I went crazy. Those kids are too much to handle sometimes.

He stepped up to the door, fumbled with the key and unlocked the door. A rush of cool air danced along his senses as he walked in, giving him the renewal needed to relax. No, he thought, I'm going to go to a restaurant to eat. He tossed his things on the bed, then sat down in a chair at the table and looked over a list of places his friend had written for him to go. They were all supposed to be good, and he didn't feel like being too picky, so he just chose the restaurant closest to the condo—a hole-in-the-wall in a small, nearby village. "It's a tepan restaurant. Barbeque sounds good, I suppose." So, half-decided, he treated his sunburn, changed attire, and pulled his hair back up in the bathroom. While fixing his hair, he decided that since he was wearing no hitai-ate, he'd let his bangs loose. It was a change; he hadn't worn his hair that way since he was a boy. Since he was another one of those "dumb kids" that roamed the streets of Konoha. A smile again crept onto his face, which pushed him to look at his face in the mirror.

Despite the raccoon tan on his face, he examined the other features that marked him: his hard-set jaw, the scar horizontally marking his portrait, the cowlick that sat higher on the right side of his head than the left. People knew him by these features, but that was only visual examination. I wonder, he began, how people really see me. Do they see Iruka, the school teacher, or Iruka, the chuunin, or just Iruka? Do people actually see me for who I really am? A cranky, restless, yet hopeful young man?

No matter. No time to worry. He had some serious eating to do.

Walking down a desolate road, he soon beheld on the near horizon a little village—the one he was told had a pretty good tepan restaurant. Another smile. Dinner would be good tonight, because there weren't any students who'd decide they'd have a _chat_ with him in the restaurant while they did something to his food. Dumb kids.

But . . . there was hardly a sign of any life from this far away. No matter, the streets would probably be throbbing with busy, hardworking, simple people, eager to finish any unfinished business before sundown. It was probably one of those dock towns on the shore where people who came from across the sea could stay in the inn just down the street, then continue their trading within the village. He approached more still, and he found, with every step closer that was taken, the village seemed all the more dead. Had there been massacre? Why would this village be the one his friend would recommend him to? Perhaps a considerable amount of time had passed since the time his friend had actually been there, and within such an allotment, the village had become run down, or become abandoned, or whatever. The people, maybe, had considered their village bankrupt, and abandoned it to hideaways, missing nins, or whoever or whatever saw it fit to hide out.

Further curious, Iruka continued into the village, pondering its sad fate.

Nearing the village, and finally entering, he realized lights—lights that indicated business or residence in the buildings. There _was_ hope for this little town, after all.

His stomach growled. He was still hungry, but he also wanted to explore, gathering more information about this town. In his exploration, he identified graffiti indicating threats like, "Justice will be paid," and, "Your debt will be your end." Some religious group, perhaps? Or harassment from neighboring towns? Or probably some dumb kids. Yeah, that was probably it—but look at these doors. They're all marked with black, as if someone had carelessly gone by defacing whatever they felt necessary. And the streets were abandoned, dirty for the most part. What story did this village have to tell?

He'd been walking for—who knows, ten minutes?—before he finally snapped out of his eerie trance and realized the restaurant waited with open doors before him. Another smile, and he casually walked in, hands in pockets. At least they could have a good place to eat.

This restaurant, too, was desolate. Only about five other people were there, all crowded around one tepan. They sat in their chairs, chatting quietly among themselves, looking hard and solemn in their hardly social state.

"Oh, master, would you like a seat?" came the voice of a young restaurant worker dressed in a flowery kimono and adorned in the style of old. Iruka looked at her, and from what he determined, she was fairly young, about the youthful age of ten. Her features were fairly odd, uncommon, often unseen and only told in tales: dark hair and tan skin, sure, but these features were set off with bright, big blue eyes—a highly unlikely combination that was actually rather stunning to the beholder. It was quite beautiful to him.

"Yes, I suppose so," he replied. She grinned, bowed slightly—a sign of utmost respect and admiration. He was probably their first customer in a while, and she showed grace in accepting him into the restaurant.

"Come right this way." She walked before him, taking him to the tepan where sat the solemn party of five. "Father," she called out to them, "we have a customer."

The man sitting at the end of the table turned to face Iruka, revealing that he possessed the same features as this young girl. This was her father? The man looked at Iruka solemnly, as if he had to think about greeting this stranger into the restaurant. Iruka anticipated another moment of staring before the man said anything; this belief was contradicted, however, when the man stood up and took Iruka's hand in a firm, welcoming handshake.

"Welcome, foreigner," his voice boomed—or at least that's what Iruka expected. This man was soft, dressed in very business-like attire, as if he'd not had an ounce of hard physical activity in all his adulthood. Yet, his handshake was very firm and leader-like, as if he held some high position in this village. Iruka only smiled again as the man smiled back. "Come, sit. Dinner's about to start. We are honored to have you with us, master."

Iruka thanked him, but it couldn't be heard above all the rest of the talking that had mysteriously become louder and brighter as soon as the man invited him to sit down. As he was seated, the girl came around to Iruka and gave him—only him—a menu. He thanked her also, but she was away just as he began to speak. She'd scurried over to her father, whispered something into his ear. He nodded, thanked her as she hurried away. Were they talking about me? Iruka wondered. No matter. He only looked through the items on the menu. All looked particularly appetizing, and the price was pretty reasonable. This would be the most difficult thing he'd have done all summer.

"It's not often we get foreigners—we hardly have anyone from outer areas come, not even from this entire nation. We're delighted to have you with us, especially in these difficult times. It's a privilege, master—" He stopped as the girl again came around the table, offering drinks to the customers. Iruka looked at her, a busy little girl, running here and there, always disappearing before he could ever say thank you. Cute little girl. It was almost as if she were purposely evading his eyes, as if there was something about him that drove a subtle disturbance into her. "I, uh, didn't catch your name, young man. Where are you from?" Iruka's eyes moved up to meet the man's own across the tepan. He stared sternly, yet warmly, inviting information about his customer, a foreigner.

"I'm Iruka," he began. The people smiled, spoke among themselves, and in their newly sparked conversation, he heard that they were repeatedly using his name.

"Oh, Iruka," that man smiled. "I am Masamune Hayake, the leader of this village. This is my council."

"Oh—" Iruka was suddenly surprised, and stood up from his seat quickly. "I was unaware that I was in such important company. You see, where I come from, my position isn't quite so important. I'm not used to being in the presence of such highly honored people—unless it's the Hokage, but he insists that we do not treat him so highly."

Hayake laughed heartily. "Master, I ask you to do the same with me. I am nothing to your Hokage—and by Hokage, I assume you are from the Fire Nation?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Ah, what village?"

"The Hidden Leaf, sir. I'm a teacher at the academy."

"Very interesting." Hayake suddenly became fairly interested in this topic. "What is it that you teach?"

This conversation was getting a little too deep. "I'm at the ninja academy." At this comment, Iruka received more solemn stares from around the tepan, especially from Hayake. What did I say?

"We have no such academy here . . . may I ask what rank you hold?"

Why? Why had they become so suddenly interested? "Chuunin. May I ask why?" The man laughed, as if Iruka were to be ashamed of his answer.

"Why not jounin?—forgive me for intruding."

"No," he began, partially annoyed, yet secluding his annoyance with a very good mask of friendliness. He didn't exactly _enjoy_ being questioned so thoroughly by strangers. "I, uh, just didn't feel as if I wanted to pursue my studies. I'm happy with my current status—just a teacher who doesn't like kids." A joke, of course, that earned a few good laughs. Hayake laughed particularly loudly, attracting Iruka's attention. What on earth was going on?

"Master, before I ask you one last question, I must explain the situation of my village." He sat back, as if preparing to tell a lengthy tale. Iruka braced for the worst—especially since this was his summer vacation, and his time would be wasted. But, without interrupting, he allowed the man to continue—further delayed by the entrance of the girl once more, who'd only come to pick up orders from around the table. She came to Iruka only, taking his order and hurrying away.

"And for you—master?"

"The, uh—oh, yes, the sukiyaki beef, please." She quickly took his menu, but as she turned to scurry away, he called, "Wait!" She paused, and he noticed she was frightened, or startled, or something by the wide look in her eyes as she turned to him. He smiled brightly. "You're not going to run off without me saying thanks, are you?" Laughter emerged from the party, which seemed to ease the look in her eyes. She smiled, giggled, and hurried away. Cute little girl.

"Charming," came the voice of Hayake. "She is my youngest daughter—cute little thing if you ask me." Iruka laughed a bit, turned again to face Hayake. At that time, in a flurry of frustration, he listened in again to the leader's message.

"This is my village. I love it with all my heart and enjoy keeping its watch, but," he paused and suddenly got more serious, "a certain sequences of events, ranging from two years previous, has rocked my village to the core; thus, its abandoned state." He paused, as if he'd expected Iruka to comment. Before he could express his sympathy, however, the man halted him with and upheld hand. "I do not ask for pity—pity will get me no where. I ask for aid."

Iruka didn't know what to reply. Why would they want _me_ to help? "Before I accept, Master, I must ask what _aid_ you seek."

Frustrated, the man continued. His plan had been crushed, apparently—a plan that would get Iruka to agree before knowing the details. "My village remains in a false debt, which constantly remains the reason for my village's state—threatening notes defacing walls, marks on our doors, stolen assets, and in some cases, kidnapped children. All these warnings originate from the chain of three bandits—not ninjas, mind you, but three untrained bandits (as was told by those who have already encountered them, but have failed to stop them)—who've been defacing our home because of this false debt we have owed them for the past two years. For this reason are the streets barren at night. There is nothing we can do, for we know not when they will strike, and they always seem to slip through our fingers because of our fear of them and what they might do. We have been constantly refused when we ask for aid from the Mizukage. Every time we ask, he only says that a strong village is built upon strong people, and turns us away—or he claims that it's just the result of bored kids with nothing better to do than practical jokes." Iruka thought of Naruto at that thought, and giggled. "Or, in other situations, he will remind us that we are not in the proper vicinity to be asking for help—that we are practically not from the same nation. We have no help from ninjas. None of us can do it. We have no skills to stop these bandits."

Iruka knew what he was asking, and face remained blank. I only came here to _eat_, not to accept a mission from a stranger. Why are they _asking _me this? Who do they think they are? "I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this—" Slightly annoyed, he rose from the table and approached the exit. Who do these people think they are? Asking a stranger like _me_ to help them, of all the . . . As he came right behind the tepan, he heard Hayake call his name in a last effort to keep his interest in what his offer was. Iruka thought his head would explode with stress, and in a brilliant flash of severe annoyance, he suppressed a yell that came out as an almost comical, "What?!"

A soft tone of voice invaded the short silence—the voice of a frightened little girl. She took a hold of his hand, and he looked down at her pretty little face. "I pray," she pleaded, pulling on his hand, "do not leave so quickly." It was that very tone of voice that made Iruka's shoulders suddenly droop in relaxation as he breathed out a bit of annoyance. Cute little girl. How could anyone resist _that_? Eerie thought overtook him, and he thought of the chance that _she _might be the next child in the village kidnapped. Why would anyone do that—especially to such a cute little girl? Turning to see the back of Hayake's head, he listened to a final, "We're desperate." Iruka weighed the outcomes of each decision. Sure, it would be easier to just refuse and let the village _suffer_.

Suffer. I've heard that word before—I'm very familiar with it, I've known it since I was about this little girl's age. My parents suffered for their village, and left me alone to suffer when they died for it. Like he said, they don't need pity—they need aid. Help. They can't protect themselves, not even from these mere _bandits_, because they're untrained in the ninja arts. It wouldn't be so hard, would it? Surely, he could easily take them out—how hard could it be? He might also be able to pick up a little extra cash in the doing, also.

I can't believe I'm doing this, Iruka groaned as he relaxed even more. I'm too nice sometimes. I'm a sucker. Before he could accept with a question of reward, he was interrupted by Hayake's further speech. Iruka could tell he was smiling by the way he said it, knowing Iruka had already accepted the task long before.

"Your reward," he began, "will be _great._"

**Hey, it's me again! Just thought I'd apologize once more for taking a long time with this one. **

**Oh, and another thing about the little girl . . . I've had concerns arise that Iruka's gonna get hitched with the little girl. I promise, he DOESN'T. That would be disgusting.**


	2. Tactical Assault

**Many of you may notice that I get mysteriously lazy toward the end of this chapter, and I apologize greatly for that. It's not my fault I am all too impatient with myself.**

**Anyway, R&R, so I can get a little help with this stuff. I don't know how well I'm doing.**

_TACTICAL ASSAULT_

She approached him wearily, wearing a false expression of happiness on the tight curves of her face. As he turned toward her, he smiled and drew her up into himself in a warm, tight embrace and quietly kissed her head. They seemed to disappear from all existence in that moment, and after it seemed all was gone with only the two of them there, he finally told her, "I love you." Clinging tighter, as if it would suppress her sorrows, she hid her face in his bosom. He lovingly, gently held her against him, and together, they melted into each other, their feelings, emotions, longing desires and heartfelt sympathies entwining into this idea they'd named "true love."

And it was.

Quietly, he kissed her head again, which drew the tears from her weary eyes that indicated her heart was disturbed. "I know you're troubled." His words were always so full of comfort, but today, that soothing sensation couldn't calm her uneasiness.

These words, so full of a now empty compassion and understanding ("Nothing can ease this pain . . ."), made it all the more difficult to hide her raging emotions. She took a deep, jagged breath, breathing him into her and trying to explain this difficult situation without becoming too overwhelmed. In a comforting attempt he again pressed her close and stroked her back. "Father's intentions are wrong," she half-growled, half-sobbed. "He has no right to sell me off like this—giving me to some man I don't know and absolutely will _never_ love. I don't know where he comes off with so much authority as to sacrifice his oldest daughter to a complete stranger—"

He was somewhat shocked, yet took the words as words of someone severely wronged and disturbed and in need of much more help than he. What she spoke of, of course, dealt greatly with him, and he knew there was not much he could do. He was only a _poor boy_, after all, and not likely to earn the hand in marriage of this high family's daughter. He could never support a family, let alone himself. Perhaps she would be better off financially with another man—wealthier, but she could never truly be happy or safe or wanted in an unwanted marriage with another man. But, then again, she _was_ entirely eligible for marriage. Furthermore, the village was poor and likely unable to repay this hired man's debt with money and, to not burn bridges made with his nation, she would be offered—no, sacrificed—to save this dying establishment. Whatever her father said in the village went, and there was nothing either could do about it.

How could this happen? They loved each other dearly! How dare anyone meddle in their affairs, attempting to break them from the bonds of love they so willingly shared and strengthened with each passing day! She could feel his heart beat heavily with anger and frustration within his slowly rising chest, and she sensed his pain for her and for what might become of them. Despite the anger and depression within him, however, he calmed his outer self and attempted to ease her pains, also.

"No one has the right to do this to us . . ." she sobbed into his chest again.

"They do," he breathed, showing some growing anxiety, "but no one ever said it was right." These words, of course, didn't comfort her, but then again, there wasn't much to do to comfort _anyone_ in this situation. She'd been the target of her father's foolish decisions, and it wasn't going to be easy to correct this problem. All he could try to do was understand her, keep her close, help her know she was at least safe in his arms. I only wish I could let her know there was nothing to fear, no lies to face, no unjust decisions or ways to keep us apart. I only wish she could know that I am truly sorrowful and I mourn with her. I want her to know that no matter what happens, she'll be safe with whoever she'll remain with—but how can she possibly learn this when it is, in fact, not the truth, but a lie revealed out of security, protection, and care? And love?

Gently, he rested his cheek on her crown, across her dark, flowing hair and accented softness within her spirit.

He smiled warmly to show no fear or anxiety. And he cried.

There was a certain building in the vicinity of this village—about the center—that stood above all other buildings in close proximity to it. This opportunity provided for a great lookout around the central square, which was supposedly the area of the village where the bandits most often struck because this particular building, in the topmost floors, housed the prestigious Masamune family. Atop the building, looking out across one of the balconies, Iruka watched the dead town center in an array of boredom, just as he had for the past three nights, and _nothing_.

Something moved out of the corner of his peripheral vision. Looking to see what it was, he eyed, through a window across the way, a couple in a warm embrace. A somewhat sweet sight, he supposed. Two lovers trying to get by in the world, but . . . the world was so cruel. Their journey would not be easy. At this thought, he gained mental control of himself and immediately he turned away. He had no business in their matters, and he didn't want to wait around long enough to see what would happen next through the open window.

"I'm too nice. I can't believe I'm doing this," said Iruka to himself, rather frustrated at the course of events that had taken place these past few days. "I'm supposed to be relaxing, taking a break from working for once, but _no_, I had to go and mess up my entire schedule, and why? Because _I'm too nice._ That's why. I'm too nice to let this already dying village suffer." At least he was half-decent. And half-honest.

Well, the village _was _pretty desperate. And it's not like I was doing anything _important_ . . . but it's not like I planned for this, either. I didn't bring any tools or anything, and these people can't exactly reimburse me, but these bandits aren't really ninja, either—or so says Hayake. How would he know, anyway? Didn't he say that he'd never had a bit of experience with ninja? It was possible that these "bandits" were actually chuunin, or something of the like. No matter, thought Iruka. If they were ninja, though, wouldn't they be attempting to make more damage, or at least keep themselves decently hidden? They're not ninja—just a few worthless, stupid bandits out trying to get their supposed "false" debt from this village.

And another thing: how did this village know these bandits wouldn't go for reinforcements after Iruka had beaten them once? Iruka wasn't all too secure knowing that this village might come back to him and ask him to save all their lives again. _That_ would not be too entertaining, especially when he'd have to refuse them and burn the bridges he'd made with the nation. He pondered on that for a moment, allowing the ideas to fester in his mind until he found out what would result. Well, they _were _just bandits, a few worthless criminals out to get the small amount of money they were owed (Hayake himself claiming the debt was merely a small amount that was just out of reach for the village, anyway). These bandits, for one thing, must be really desperate if they were hunting down a sum of money that wasn't entirely worth this hassle. And, for another, if they ever _did_ get the money, how would they split it more than three ways and satisfy all the people who would help them? It would amount to almost nothing, which would only send the filthy criminals to prison for cheating their aid out of a good payment. It wouldn't be worth it, unless they were _really _desperate—which was highly likely because of the trouble they were already causing to get it.

People are just stupid sometimes, Iruka thought.

So, this wouldn't be so difficult. They won't be expecting anyone with the skills I have to ill-fatedly happen upon them. It may not be that hard. Yeah, I'm just making a big deal out of it. I can take care of these guys easily, make sure they don't cause any other problems. And, even if I haven't really used my skills for a while, I'm sure they'll get me by—I'm pretty good with that. Besides, if I need any tools that badly, I'm pretty sure I can improvise. No problem . . .

"Oh, who am I kidding? Obviously not myself! This is going to be frustrating! I shouldn't have agreed to this! I've already wasted three good nights doing what? Just _sitting here! _" All Iruka could do now was wallow in his self-proclaimed misery and watch for any sign of bandits in the falling hours of night and early morning. He was overcome by a long streak of boredom, and he allowed his mind to wander in order to keep himself sane.

People are fools. For all I know, they're just a bunch of bored teens. Dumb kids. Iruka smiled to himself. "This might not be so bad. Complaining won't get me anywhere." It seemed a good attitude began to light the horizon, so he relaxed a little, decided to search the perimeter of the city. This area of his job was to hurriedly scan the perimeter using a few of his skills and obtain information about what was going on and who, if anyone, was inexplicably approaching. So boring. I was doing this sort of easy stuff as a genin.

Around the perimeter, another wave of patrol—nothing. For all I know, I'm just a fool who fell into somebody's trick. Frustrated once more, he retreated to the peak of the tallest building this village housed, sat back and waited again, annoyed. Recalling his previous words about complaining, he could only sigh in a tense relief and try to take his mind off what he'd reluctantly been assigned to do.

And another thing: what would this reward be? This humble port village had hardly any money, so that was out of the deal. But other than money, what could it possibly be? Something "great," as Hayake had said, but what could that be? Wasn't money really the only thing that could be offered? "I'll probably get ripped off . . . oh, well. Maybe it'll be free dinner whenever I want to come and visit the condo. At least it'll be something _pretty_ good, I guess. Better than nothing, I guess . . ." Waiting a moment longer, he found himself lost in random thoughts of going back to school, waiting for Naruto to play some dumb prank, a new batch of bratty kids to teach . . . pretty much all the "important" stuff to Iruka. He obviously wasn't one to think of much else besides his time-consuming, life-monopolizing job and how wonderful it was, as it did often fester like a sore in his mind to think about it, yet it was something that couldn't go untreated; therefore, it was tended to often with the deepest of annoyance. Perhaps I could get another job? I could go back to being an anbu captain—though I'd be the oldest one on the squad, and therefore earn _more_ students. Or, I could continue my training and become a jounin. I just might get paid a little more for missions like this—and I could take on a few students of my own and teach them how not to be stupid, bratty kids, but elite ninja. But . . . that would involve more students—though not as many as I teach now. Yeah, that might be nice, but I'm getting really sick of teaching those weird, immature kids . . . and—

He'd been wondering around too long, he realized, when his daydreaming was instantly cut short to the faint echo of footfall in the streets below. A bandit? Searching the streets quickly, he spotted a figure clad in black from head to toe (difficult to spot at this hour), hiding in the shadows cast by the clouds and moon, approach the side entrance to the building. Out of his pack, he pulled something, looked around, and began fiddling with the door. It _is _a bandit, he thought. No one in this village is out this late, because they're afraid—or so says Hayake. I'll just check it out . . . wouldn't that be embarrassing to attack a civilian?

As he was about to carry out his foolish action, he was brought to realize that this bandit wasn't alone. Footsteps were heard from above on the topmost area of the roof. Another bandit, and he'd surprisingly not seen Iruka. They've come to attack this building. This one's probably a lookout—so they _are_ organized and have a specific accomplishment in mind. Iruka immediately gathered the remaining information he needed about the area: there were _three_ bandits all together, the last one scaling the wall just below him. Their plan? From what he gathered, Iruka could only guess on the situation, concluding that the bandit on the ground level would keep an eye out from below, watching the streets and anyone who would near the building; the one atop the building would look out from above, watching for bodies approaching from a _distance_ and warning the man on ground level of company (_that's_ why he didn't see me—I was close by, and he was watching the further streets beyond the square through binoculars), which meant the man on ground level would also take care of that person and be wary of other conditions including the such; the final man, breaking his way into the Hayake residence, would do the dirty work. What that was, Iruka did not know, but he couldn't afford to dawdle any longer. He put his plan into action, taking care of the topmost lookout first—knowing that he'd surely spot Iruka on his way down the building if he were to take out the bottom guard first.

The man on the roof, through a series of taps against the microphone on his headset, confirmed the security of the premises. Nothing was coming from a distance, nothing was near the building at the moment, so all was well. He relaxed a little, speaking not a word, but remaining as silent as was humanly possible. This would be a breeze.

"'Evening," he suddenly heard from behind. Jumping up and turning around, he hardly thought his startle would have time to catch up with him, he reacted so quickly. He drew a knife, but not quick enough to evade the blow to his head. That was quick.

He was out cold. Iruka jumped up to the roof, allowing the useful shadow clone he'd created to dissipate into the cool, blowing air of this warm June night. That was easy, he told himself. Stupid bandits. After doing a rough analysis on the body, his hypothesis was confirmed: they're only mere bandits and have never had any ninja training. This would be too easy. So, to conclude the first objective of his mission, he used a rope the bandit carried to bind him into an immovable position and left the body to lay in a corner. Before Iruka left the rooftop, however, he gathered up the bandit's only weapon and headset. Now, to take care of the man doing the dirty work. Iruka had to be quick, as he was unsure how much time had actually passed and how much he actually had left before this one could do much damage.

With a great deal of work using chakra, Iruka managed to scale the wall and enter on the level below. The bandit had used a tool to cut the glass—which could also be used as a weapon, Iruka thought, warning himself—allowing himself to crawl in through the glass door. Using this new port, Iruka created a separated clone of himself, allowing for more help in seeking the bandit.

Which proved to be a bit thorny, actually. This might be a little difficult. Further frustrated, he lightly ran through hallways, thinking of what would happen if he'd proven a bit late. Results didn't look too stunning in his mind, so he figured he'd better find this bandit. Quickly. How far could he have gone in the three minutes he'd been spared? The answer came as a check to reality, and he quickened his pace. Where'd he gone? Who or what could he be trying to abduct?

Iruka, after catching a slight glimpse of a flash of black, screeched to a slower pace and took the corner. To ensure safety, he allowed his clone to precede him through the hallway and to the doorway on the end. A bedroom? Was he trying to capture someone? Or something? Iruka sent his clone in first to find out, while he waited on the ceiling near the doorway to eavesdrop on the situation.

The bandit was there. With an outreached hand, he was stealthily, yet quickly nearing the bed on the far side of the room. He was going to take whoever it was that slept in that bed and Iruka knew it had to be stopped. So, formulating a quick, sloppy plan, Iruka sent his shadow clone in for a distraction while Iruka entered and took him out from there.

Which went perfectly, except for the fact that there was a bit of a struggle, which created vocal rebellion that my have been heard by the watchman on the floor level. He would be here in a moment's time, and this time, Iruka had to be ready for him. With the rope the bandit so conveniently carried in his belt, he was bound by Iruka and relieved of all the weapons he carried, but it had slipped his mind to remove the glass cutter.

Iruka used chakra to attach himself to the ceiling and await the oncoming bandit. Would he try and complete the kidnapping? Would he just run away? Hopefully not, because if that were the result, Iruka would have to come back _again_ and try to catch this guy, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen. Maybe it _would_ be better for this person to be tried at being kidnapped.

He remained in the dark for another few minutes before a _thumping_ came flying down the hall. For a bandit, he sure was noisy—but wait. If it was the bandit, he might try to conceal the rugged footsteps. Iruka poised himself to attack in case it was the bandit, yet readied himself to allow the civilian to pass through . . .

It _was _the bandit. Iruka allowed his own clone to appear from within the shadows as soon as the bandit was halfway to the bed. From this, Iruka predicted two outcomes: either the bandit would tuck tail and run to the door and into Iruka's ambush, or the bandit could attempt to resist the clone. Fat chance.

Turned out Iruka's latter guess proved faithful. Quickly picking out the surroundings in his mind, the bandit dove at his partner on the floor for the glass cutter to use as a spare weapon, which sent Iruka a thrill of fear at the fact that he'd forgotten to snatch those away from him. Only a minor setback, surely. As the bandit moved in toward the clone, holding a knife in one hand and the cutter in the other, he began a series of evasive attacks, yet was startled to discover that as soon as his attacks landed on the clone, it dissipated. Astonished, he looked around, and only above himself as Iruka was coming down upon him to deliver a solid kick to the head, which the bandit evaded. Lucky. Again, Iruka attempted to land a kick on this guys head, yet every time, he seemed to get just out of reach. I'm running low on chakra, Iruka feared. I can't keep this up much longer, I haven't done this in a while. Once more the attacks flew, and the bandit managed to knick Iruka with the knife, drawing a thin line of blood that wept through his shirt on his shoulder. I'm slowing down, he reminded himself. I've got to speed up, even if at least a little . . . maybe I misjudged these guy.

In a sudden thrust of adrenaline, Iruka managed to hammer the guy to the floor, and the cutter was knocked across the floor out of reach. His failing strength aided him in no means, as was discovered with the sudden turn of the tables as the bandit now pinned Iruka to the floor. The steely knife was being pressed closer to Iruka's neck as thoughts and ideas began flooding his mind.

I've been in situations like this before, I can get out. I can't die—there are all those kids counting on their teacher to come back and teach again. If only I could get those cutters . . . if only I'd been a little more careful on time and chakra, this wouldn't have happened.

I just need a quick boost—a break. I only need about three more seconds.

Even if I don't get rid of this guy, I _may_ live, but I could never live with the fact that I let someone get kidnapped or raped or whatever when _I _could have stopped it. I need to save this person—

There was a certain sort of silence and calm in the air suddenly, and a nearly inaudible _whrrr_ sailed through the air, abruptly causing the bandit to release Iruka from his grasp as he attended to his shoulder with a scream. My opportunity! thought Iruka, and with a swift kick and punch, the bandit was unconscious on the floor. Iruka sat back up, and in the pale moonlight, caught a glimpse of a woman's clothed figure standing near the bed. Had she brought him down? Yes, she'd thrown the cutter at the bandit's shoulder, giving Iruka barely enough time to take this man down.

She saved my life, he thought. For another moment, he looked at the girl. I need to thank her, at least. But just as he was going to open his mouth, she turned swiftly and ran from the room—was she crying? It sounded so, but why? She hadn't killed him, surely, but . . .

Who knew? Iruka sat perplexed and watched her fly down the hallway, her face in her hands as she aimlessly ran for immediate comfort.


	3. Irrevocable Actions

_Irrevocable Actions_

"Master Iruka," began Hayake, with an air of pride about his countenance, "you've done marvelous things for our poor, humble village."

"I've done nothing worth all this honor—I've done things like this before, you see—"

"But you do not know what your little task has done for my people! You've given us the safety and security of knowing that we will not be further tormented by these foolish men you've captured. Now, they are being justly served in the neighboring village's prison. We can never thank you enough for what you've done."

Following the remark, the villagers in the restaurant applauded. Hayake stood proudly, presenting himself to the people who'd come to hear their leader speak. This restaurant was now brimming with guests, as if some horrid plague had kept them from this area for so long and it had subsided to the point where they could enjoy the pleasure of a good meal outside of the home. It was a happy sight, and Iruka could truly see that these people were happy now. Perhaps he _had_ done a great deal to help these people come out of their homes and into the markets and streets once more, without the lingering fear of bandits awaiting their unfortunate passage near their hideaway. No more would these people be plagued by fear, nor by the constant defacing of their homes and property in the town square. All was well in the village again; Iruka beamed at the thought. It wouldn't do him any good to resist all the praise Hayake was giving him, for these people really had needed a comforting blow to the bandits. So, as humbly as he could, he thanked Hayake and the villagers for all the praise he was receiving. Applause rose, Iruka blushed. With an uplifted hand, Hayake silenced the throng once more, continued in his speech.

"We are greatly indebted to your kind deeds, Master Iruka. Please accept our reward to you in my home this evening—the presentation will take place about sundown. A ceremony will follow the next morning as you prepare to leave our village, leaving footsteps and an example that will forever affect us." He looked down to Iruka who, in turn, looked back up to the beaming face of a strong, prestigious man. Iruka nodded in thanks, stood and reached up to shake his hand. More applause ensued. Iruka smiled greatly.

Inside, however, he was still slightly perturbed at the thought that a great deal of his summer vacation had been wasted while he could have been relaxing. He would have to leave for home the next morning, and even though we was to receive a "great reward" this evening, he still couldn't help but feel that he'd be cheated out of a good deal in some way. Ceremony? What was that all about? Maybe this _was_ a great reward. But, then again, these people were virtually unknown to the Fire Nation, and he wasn't entirely secure in their supposed honesty. Trust was something that needed to be established in this village before Iruka was supposed to accept the plea, but with his kind heart, he accepted. Oh, well. Service was never bad, was it? It was all a forgotten folly that men seemed to loathe these days. No big deal.

As he watched the chef prepare the food using all varieties of tricks, tosses, and other things that made people laugh, he felt eyes staring into his soul from across the table. Curious, his eyes brought him to see a young girl—Inori, he'd been told. He'd seen her before, yes, earlier that week when he'd first entered the restaurant. This place was vacant then, but now, it was flooded with happy villagers who'd only recently been freed from their bondage of fear. Inori stared at him with large, bright eyes and a concerned pout drawn at the corners of her mouth. Confused, he smiled in return, and she only looked away. Iruka brushed it off as just some little girlish antics at this "hero" and reminded himself that things couldn't get any worse.

This isn't so bad, he reassured himself. Now, they'll treat me well on my next vacation. Besides—it's given me a chance to brush up on my skills again and do something I haven't done in a long while.

This isn't so bad.

---------------------------------

"It isn't right. We hardly even know him."

"Listen to me, Katana, you're at the appropriate age where if you're not married by now, you're going to have an arranged marriage. Look at you—you're eighteen, and not a husband!"

"There _is_ already someone though! You know I love him, and he love me! We were meant for each other! Why can't you see—"

"Then _why_ has he not asked! Why do you remain in this girlish fantasy! Love like that will not survive because he is poor! He could never support you and a family! He's _just a poor boy!_ And _why_ you've remained in love with him until this point will forever remain a mystery to me. He can't promise you anything—"

"Except love."

"Oh, why do you bother with that again? It's such an old-fashioned thing! People these ages aren't getting married for _love_; it's for power and prestige and continuing lineage. You know that—"

"So call me old-fashioned, father, because that's really what I am, isn't it! I'm just a foolish girl that believes in old traditions and true love, while _you_ remain in _your_ little folly of power and prestige and continuing lineage! I'm not even your blood daughter! What's wrong with _you_!" she spat, throwing her arms in the air and storming toward the balcony outside. In the midst of her somewhat immature raging, she halted by further word from her father.

"He could never give you anything worthwhile. He's just a _poor boy_." His voice was considerably softer than it was before, as if to comfort her raging anger and _fear_—yes, it _was _fear. She knew from the beginning that she and Kori would never really last. He really _did_ have nothing to offer her . . yet, what was it that kept her coming back to him? What was it that bound her to him, and he to her?

"He could give me _love_ . . ."

"And what is that worth these days? _Nothing._" He sat upon her bed. She wouldn't dare look back at him, only kept her longing gaze fixed through the open doors. The breeze danced along the sheer curtains that lined the doors, inviting the cold, hard spirit in the room to thrive and prosper. She suppressed tears, kept listening to the steely words her father was saying. "I expect you to behave well when he comes—not like the little brat I know you can be. Show proper manners, be graceful, and _remember_ what you're doing for this little village. For all you know, he's better than that blasted Kori, and not only that, he can probably bring you up to a wealthy place in his village. He can protect you, help you, keep you safe from harm . . ."

In one raging, solitary moment, she felt a wave of anger sweep through her at the reiteration of her father's words in her brain. How _dare _he! How _could _he! Through clenched teeth and a rigid jaw, she balled her fists and prepared to lash out with some comment that she was sure would send him into at least a _minute_ sense of the situation. Right now, he was oblivious to all she'd just reiterated to him—how could he be? How could he not know it was love that bound her to her precious Kori! "Father," she gritted her teeth, "you . . ."

With a quick whip of her head that tossed her hair loosely around her face, she glanced back to see old Hayake, sitting importantly on the bed. In him, she also saw the people of the village looking at her, wondering _why_ she was. Wasn't she just a mistake? An _accident?_ An unwanted orphan wandering the streets? She remembered now, how she'd been unwanted as a young girl of two years, and old Hayake was kind enough to take her in. At this memory, she immediately became frightened, her big, green eyes growing wide and swelling with big tears that slid helplessly down her cheeks. Hayake knew what this was doing to her, and he stood calmly and gathered his once young, dirty little girl into the arms that once held her. For another moment, he held her frightened countenance as she hovered in his arms, then became hysterical all at once and threw herself into the embrace. He sighed in the relief of knowing she wouldn't retaliate once more.

"Oh, father, father . . ." she sobbed, "I'm sorry. Forgive me; it was not my place to rebel against you." He ran his hands over her frailty of a back, smoothing into her the comfort she needed at this time, protection from the storm.

I gave you life, he thought. If it weren't for me, you'd be dead. I shared my life with you because I _pitied_ you. Pity was the only thing that could save you, and it was me that gave it so freely to you. Because I gave you life, I can freely control the direction I wish it to take. Now, you will prevent any anger or frustration from the village by wedding this man I will give you to.

He listened once more to her now quiet sobbing, felt her breathing in his arms. He released her and allowed her to go back out to the balcony she'd previously attempted to retreat to. All at once he was filled with rage at her, pondering on why she'd come into his life. Balling his fists, he took himself to the doors that would lead him to the hallway where he would meet Iruka down in the grand foyer.

I cannot believe I've had to deal with her for so long. I do not understand _why_ she was so inconveniently placed in my hands, why her life suddenly had to invade mine.

He knew the truth, the truth that had been revealed to the once orphaned girl as something twisted into a selfish lie. Hayake knew what happened that night, sixteen years ago. He knew everything that his "daughter" should know, yet was deprived of learning . . .

------------------------------------------

"I cannot take her."

"Hayake, you must. You are just as responsible for her as I am."

"Why should I take her? You've raised her since conception—and I've had no part in it. She's yours. She could never be mine. She has never known a father."

"You know I'm bound for death—how dare you be so foolish as to allow her to suffer for the foolish action of _both_ of us! How _dare_ you even _think_ of allowing her to enter a master residence where she'll be mistreated and enslaved and then allowed to die! How _dare_ you hold no pity! How _dare_ you be so prideful as to not admit to the mistake we share!"

"She's not mine. I don't own her."

"But you are a part of her. You know it. I will soon die, and you will probably hold no grudge or regret, but you will remember this: she is _yours_ after I die, and you must take full responsibility for her. If you do not, the blame will be on your head."

"She is _not_ my responsibility."

"How _dare_ you. And I suppose your coming into my house almost three years ago was not your responsibility also."

"That has nothing to do with it. That's out of the question."

"Some leader _you'll_ be, not even having the _gall_ to admit to a mistake or the guts to claim responsibility . . ."

" . . ."

"_Foolish, selfish, brainless, mindless, heartless, stupid pig . . ._"

----------------------------------------

That was long ago. Her convincing and cutting remarks at the time were enough to persuade him to take the dear little girl in, but now, he would do anything to get rid of her. Oh, it was a vile, selfish game he'd played, but it was true that he'd never felt a scrap of love for her. She was just a _mistake,_ after all—a result of the foolish actions of a man and some harlot he'd met on the street.

Maybe it was true. He could never love a _mistake_ . . . They were not affordable, and they caused unwanted occasions.

-----------------------------------------

It wasn't too long before Hayake entered the grand foyer to meet Iruka, who'd spent the past ten minutes pondering on this great anticipation. Hayake had simply come down, met Iruka with a handshake and a few kind words, then led the way up to the 23rd floor of the grand structure. Iruka remained silent for much of the way. Perhaps he was worried, or confused, or even too excited to say anything. He was thinking of the reward, though, Hayake knew. However, Iruka's reaction to his new "gift" would remain a mystery until the very moment he met her. This could be disastrous . . . no, Iruka appeared to be too kind to refuse such an offer. Surely he would accept it . . .

Or at least that's what the fearful village leader hoped. If things didn't work out, who knows what enemies this tiny, suffering village would make? That was something that couldn't be afforded, especially in these economically challenging times. Every action must be monitored with utmost care and concern.

"Master Iruka," Hayake began nervously, as they neared the 20th floor, "tell me a little more about yourself." Iruka, in a rather bewildered fashion, glanced over at Hayake, smiled nervously.

"I'm afraid there's not much to tell. Is there something specific you had in mind? I'm a rather simple person, I fear, and I'm not sure there's really anything to brag about."

"Oh, come now, don't be so ridiculous—humble, I mean," he laughed heartily with a touch of a nervous edge, which shook Iruka to wonder what was going on. He was becoming too suspicious. "Is there anyone special in your life—anyone you love?"

Iruka thought a moment, yet the only person that came to his mind was—oddly enough—Naruto. He smiled critically at the thought, yet announced it audibly anyway. "There's a boy in the village. He's become like a son to me. He grew up without parents, and nobody in the village likes him. Sounds a lot like me when I was his age."

Hayake raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

Huh? Iruka looked back at the doors to the elevator, as if doing so would make them suddenly open and someone would jump in and say, "Congratulations, you've won . . .!" The sentence would never be finished, it seemed. "Well, you see . . . my parents were killed in the attack of Kyuubi. They were fighting for the village, and they were killed . . . I suppose. Naruto's just the same way, except he's never even known his parents. That's why he's such a weirdo, and outcast . . ." he sighed, relaxed a bit. Such words put him at ease with himself. "He's just like I was."

Hayake restrained his laughing for a moment, and when it was released, he almost regretted it. Instead, he smoothed it over with a new comment. "No woman? At all?"

Iruka almost laughed himself. "No. Sad, isn't it?"

The 23rd floor. As the doors opened, Hayake stepped through, invited Iruka to follow him. He did so uneasily, yet relaxed when they entered the homier environment of a grand bedroom . . .

Wait. This bedroom was awfully familiar to Iruka. Yes, he'd been saved by one of the bandits in here. Was this . . .

No, of course not. Iruka brushed it off as a senseless worry and told himself everything would not be as it seemed. "Wait here," Hayake intruded. "I must go fetch her." He floated from the room out to a secluded balcony through doors which he closed behind himself. Iruka sighed, ignoring the most recent comment as he alighted on the bed near him. Sure, it may have been rude, but he didn't mind at this moment. Hayake himself was being rather rude, keeping this "reward" a secret. Iruka sat festering in frustration until his vivid concentration was broken by the light footfall nearing the room. He looked through the doorway to discover little Inori once more. She was peering shyly through the open door, staring at him with bright, blue eyes. A light, airy smile came on his face to greet her. She, realizing he meant no harm, smiled and trotted into the room, followed by a tall man dressed in black, as if he were to attend a funeral. Iruka wondered on the situation, yet was interrupted by the presence of the little girl again, who'd climbed up to sit near him on the large bed. The smile came to his face again as she looked at him with wonder in her face.

"You don't mean any harm, do you? You're a good man, aren't you?" Her questions were odd to him, and he questioned her in return with a slightly confused look on his face. The man who'd followed her into the room spoke out.

"Of course he is. Why else would Hayake choose him?"

She merely ignored him, went back to Iruka. "She doesn't want you, you know. Do you want her? Will you take her? She loves someone else, you know."

In one sheer instant, Iruka came to realize his misfortune-tossed fate, which drew him to confusion and led him into a state of mild panic. He stood up quickly from the bed, looked around in bewilderment. His panic was expressed through short utterances of words that seemed surprised, such as, "How? What? Who . . .?" Growing more frightened still, he turned to look at the man dressed in black, who merely chuckled in a deep, throaty voice. "Oh, come now, son, don't tell us you didn't know!"

How could it come to this? Why did I take this job? I can refuse her, yes, and demand that I will refuse any reward—it wouldn't be worth the trouble to take in a complete stranger like this. It's wrong! It's immoral! I don't even know who she is! How can they do this to me! I'll run—I'll run away and never come back! That way, we'll both be happy in our actions, and maybe she'll be happy too. That way, they won't have to pay me and I can just keep pretending that everything's okay, that my summer vacation was spent tanning on the beach.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Iruka said shakily. He took his leave to the door, not looking back.

That is, until he was held back by his hand. Looking back, Inori was holding one of his hands in the grasp of her own. She seemed to convey some sad feeling with her touch, openly yet inaudibly admitting her fear of the situation, that something might go wrong. Her eyes began to gently well up with tears as she stared sternly and heavily into his eyes.

"Please, Master Iruka," she pleaded. "My father's intentions are not to harm, nor to embarrass. We simply do not have the means to repay you with money. Our village suffers as we speak," she pulled him back into the room, trying to persuade him to accept the proposal. "I promise my sister's a wonderful person. She's very strong. Please say you'll love her. Please say you won't hurt her like her mother did."

Her _sister?_ Well, at least she'd be at least half-acceptable by her looks, if she looked anything like her father and sister. But _why_ did it have to come to this? Half-heartedly, Iruka weighed the outcomes of both situations, trying to find out whatever his choice would lead to. He could accept and be miserable for the rest of his life. Divorce was something that was seriously frowned upon, so he couldn't really keep her for a while and then get rid of her when he was sick of her. He could not accept and embarrass the village and be cheated out of his summer vacation for some worthless village he'd saved. That, and he didn't want any bridges burned. All in all, it sounded more agreeable not to accept Hayake's daughter, allowing himself more freedom and spare time and a lesson learned. But, then again . . .

Feeling guilty, he looked down at little Inori, looked into her face once more. She really _was_ upset, it appeared. What was it that made her look this way? What was it that made her think that it would be better for her sister to be taken by Iruka? Why was it so difficult to resist negating the proposal? Iruka sighed in frustration. "Inori," he began, rubbing his temples, "tell me why I should accept your sister. I don't think I can, honestly. Tell me why."

Inori, as innocent as she appeared, shied her look away from Iruka and stared at her feet.

"Tell me, Inori."

She resisted before continuing, looking up once more to the man dressed in black. Without really expressing so, he gave her the permission needed to continue. Iruka listened intently, waiting for the exact reason his future should be maimed for the sake of the village, or Inori's sister, or whatever.

"She's not really my sister, Master Iruka. She was an orphan found on the streets, and Father had the pity to take her in and raise her. But . . . that is not why." She halted further speech, much to the frustration of her listener.

"But she's loved—"

"Maybe she is, but not in the way a father loves his daughter. Maybe he loved her for this occasion only. But he does not love her like his daughter." Iruka sighed again. This was not a good enough reason to accept.

"Inori, please understand—"

"No, _you don't_ understand!" He was shocked at the force she used in exerting this comment. Was she angry? Upset? "Father doesn't love her! He has no intentions of keeping her! Iruka . . ." She looked up with wet eyes. "He beats her. He keeps her locked up—he treats her horribly, and she runs back to him thinking that it's something a father should do! She's never known love, because my father will never love her truly. She's _hated_ in this household. Father's even said so himself that she's nothing but a senseless burden and that he'd do anything to be rid of her."

Iruka was almost angry. Why should this family's troubles determine his future? Why should he accept this? And _why_ did this ever happen?

Because I'm too nice, that's all.

-----------------------------------------

"Katana, he's here. I hope you've changed your mind about this situation and now realize that this is for the better." Hayake strode boldly to his daughter, leaning over the balustrade that kept her from falling over the edge—or jumping, perhaps, in this situation. Hayake rested a hand on her back as she spoke easily, still recovering from the shock of the crying she'd just come over.

"I know you know better, father, that everything will be okay." She was lying to herself to get out of the embarrassment of appearing before her groom red-faced and angry. "But why—"

"Don't ask me why, Katana. It's a waste of your breath. Besides," his voice became suddenly cold, "he will be more than _Kori_ ever could be."

She raged at this comment, yet allowed it to simmer. Complaining wouldn't do a thing at this moment, so she prepared herself for the worst. Running her fingers through her long, tangled hair, she attempted to make herself at least half presentable. She stood up straight. "How do I look?"

Coldly, again, he replied, "You could look better, little brat. If it weren't for your ridiculous reactions, you might look half presentable." He started toward the doors, followed by his adopted daughter.

This is it, she said. It's only the night before our wedding, and I'm just barely meeting him. This could be tragic. How do I know he's not an abusive man or anything? How do I know he'll love me? What does _Father_ know about this situation, anyway? How does he get off _selling_ me to some stranger? Father's a fool, I know it. This couldn't possibly be right.

Taking one final breath, she followed her father into her bedroom where her fate would be sealed—no, where it had already been sealed the night before. This is it, she gasped quietly. I'm resting my future in the hands of a stranger.

"Master Iruka," Hayake boomed. "I would like you to meet my daughter, Masamune Katana."

-----------------------------------------------------

It all seemed to happen too fast. One moment, he found himself looking at Inori and considering accepting her sister for her sake, Inori's sake, the village's sake . . . well, whatever it was, he finally concluded to accept. How bad could it be, huh? Chances are she's an absolutely gorgeous girl with a wonderful personality. We could learn to love, couldn't we? Can't everyone learn to love another?

Why am I accepting?

It was all too quick. Before he knew it, he was taking the proposal of marriage. Had he even seen her yet? Yes, but it was all too much of a shock. Let's see, what did she look like . . . ah, yes. Nothing like her sister or father but . . . oh, yes, that's because she's adopted, but she _did, _however, possess a familiar recollection of her father. Why was that? Were these features common in the village? Was she attractive? He forgot to check that, he was so shocked. He'd seen her, and it seemed that before Hayake even asked Iruka if he accepted, Iruka was expressing his acceptance.

Because I'm too nice. Oh, what am I getting myself into? I can refuse—

"Iruka, you will be greatly blessed," the man boomed, giving him a firm pat on the back, which almost knocked the considerably smaller Iruka to the ground. "We will perform the ceremony tomorrow morning before you leave—I hope that's okay with you."

That was Iruka's chance. He could turn down the proposal right there and be rid of this burden. He could run, leaving two hearts unbroken that day, leaving them to become one again.

But he didn't. Why? Not even Iruka was sure. All he really thought of next was the mess he'd gotten into. Slowly and uneasily, he turned around to Katana—the woman he'd share the next portion of his live with. She never made eye-contact, only stared solemnly to the ground the way her father had taught her—not directly, of course, but by the way she'd been treated. A solitary tear fell from her face, yet she did not turn away; no, she was being brave.

And for once, she hated it.


	4. A Forgettable Occasion

**Gee, you don't know how many times I rewrote this chapter!! I couldn't seem to get anything right the first time! Anyway, it's still not at its best, but it's the best I could do for now. It seems to drag on forever, I know, but in the next chapter, as was requested, Iruka and Katana _do_ actually get some "alone" time. It might be a while, but it's already getting written up. Happy reading!**

**A Forgettable Occasion**

From what he'd remembered, weddings were joyous occasions where family, friends, and all your other loved ones came to watch you become bound to the one you love for all time. They were times that would be remembered for generations among many, times that meant love and hope for two people desperately in love with one another. Whether it was to escape a family's treachery or to start a new life, there was a new hope and beginning on the day of matrimony that lasted, and sometimes kept two people together.

Or at least that's what he thought. In only three hours, he would be wed to a complete stranger for something he did that unknowingly brought him to this current position. Life was cruel. Life was annoying.

Lying limp on the bed in the quiet condo, he gazed through the ceiling, past the sky and clouds up on into space and past the entire universe. There, he wondered, thought on the occasions of the ensuing day. What was she _really_ like? The only time I really saw her was for about three minutes, and I didn't even speak with her. How do I know I won't be miserable? No, how do I know _she _won't be miserable with _me?_

He hadn't slept all night, and though he wanted to waste away to an insignificant nothing on the bed before doing anything else, he knew there were still things he needed to do: go over his grooming routine, run into town to get a decent outfit for the wedding, pack up, clean up, buy an extra boat ticket, and do anything else he may have forgotten.

Today would be a very long day. This life would be excruciatingly long.

_At the Masamune building . . ._

"You'll look gorgeous, my dear. I'm sure he will be happy to have such a beautiful bride to be his."

Katana sat poised in a chair in front of a vanity, her unruly, dark hair being tended by Hana, a servant and loyal friend. She'd never really done her hair so fancy, and she struggled through every tug and twist and other actions done to it. A moan came inaudibly as she pondered on what would happen later that day. Not only will _I_ be miserable, but _he_ will, too. How ever could this work out? It seems like a _disaster_, that's all. Father would kill me if I were to run away from it.

"I may be gorgeous this morning, but what is to happen tomorrow? And the next day, and month and year—even father thinks I'm an unbelievably stubborn child and would do anything to be rid of me—" Before she realized that she'd spoken what was actually on her mind, it was said. She put her hand to her mouth and widened her eyes, listened to the speech the servant was about to give her.

"Oh, please don't say that about Hayake-sama, dear. You know, were it not for him, you wouldn't be here today." There was a certain streak of metallic words in her voice, as if she'd practiced them for this particular moment. Katana brought her knees to her chest.

"It was pity that saved me once, so why mustn't it be pity that gives me the man I love?"

Hana grimaced slightly. "He's doing it because he loves you and knows what's best for you. You know he wouldn't want it any other way."

"Hana, that's what you say, but is that what you believe?" Katana turned in her seat to look Hana in the eye, forcing her to ignore the detailed updo she was so concentrated on. "Do you really believe he's doing what's best for me? Do you _really_ think that he would just take me in off the streets out of pity, and then sell me off like this? I do not approve of what he is doing. He may look at me like I'm some stupid little girl, but I am _not._ I _have_ thought this out and I do _not_ believe he does _anything_ out of _pity_." Satisfied with the message she'd conveyed, she turned and sat back down. "He says he took me in out of pity. So why is he trying to get rid of me now?"

Hana was at a loss for comforting words. Dumbfounded. Since when did Katana think like this?

"Pity can't save a relationship. That's why this one won't last."

_In the lobby . . ._

"Iruka, my friend," Hayake boomed, seeing Iruka enter the building, his arms clutching a garment bag and two suitcases, gripping two slips of paper between his teeth. He slightly grinned beneath the heavy load—both figuratively and literally. Hayake looked down with a low chuckle as he waved a hand to two servants to take his things. Relieved, Iruka took his garment bag back and took the papers into his free hand. Only a nod was given to acknowledge Hayake. Irritated, he waved the servants with the suitcases away to follow Iruka to his dressing room—the room where he would end his life, his reputation, his solitary existence.

Iruka was not a fool; he knew that dressing into that formal outfit would mean changing everything forever. Changing his apparel would change his life. It would change his identity. It would change _everything_, like he was only changing an outfit.

He analyzed himself in the mirror, rethinking the solitary features that created his face and personality. Was he really all he thought himself to be? Was he really all Hayake built him up to be? Would his life be drastically changed forever after the occasion that would take place in—what was it, forty-five minutes? After sitting in his serious array for a good while, he finally capped his thinking with the memory of his silly raccoon tan. A somewhat relieved smile was expressed, which reminded him that life was something that had to be laughed at sometimes. How ridiculous am I going to look today with this stupid sunburn showing on my face?

Sure, everything would be alright today. But that didn't reassure anything in the future.

_In Katana's room . . ._

Hayake, without the courtesy of a single knock, paraded into Katana's room. "Katana," he called. In the sudden fury and realization of what she might have done to escape the terror of what would occur in only twenty-five minutes, he pushed himself into looking around the room, angrily calling her name whenever he failed to find her. His growing rampage came to an end when he found her quietly contemplating her living on the balcony that peered over into the garden in which she would be wed. Rather than feeling relieved, he angrily stormed out through the flowing, sheer curtains and shouted to her. "Why didn't you answer me?" A pause as he scrambled to mend a slight error of speech. "You . . . had me worried. Why wouldn't you answer?"

The wind tousled her old-style white wedding kimono, played with the loose hair around her face, adorned with simple makeup that really only accented her eyes and brought out her . . . what was it, natural beauty? Was it true? Did she really look beautiful to him? Slowly, she rotated her head atop her body's graceful posture to look at him, see how he felt. It almost pained her to look at him, as it did him to see her face. She looked so much like her . . .

But that was foolish recollection. He shook it off and looked at her for who she really was to him all these years of raising her. Proudly, he pulled his shoulders and arms back, and looked down to the garden where guests were already crowding around the rows of round tables. "You look wonderful."

Katana, amazed at such a compliment from the one she'd called "father," allowed her eyes to water in gratitude. From her trembling lips, she almost uttered the words, "thank you," because she truly was grateful. She truly appreciated him for once.

"Hana does an amazing job with what she has to work with."

What Katana had so highly favored for the past few seconds all suddenly melted away with such a sting. Frustrated once more, she turned her gracefully tended face back to the area of her fleeting concentration—the garden of the Masamune family.

The garden was really the only sign of real life in the urbanization of the village. It was an area she'd hoped to become married to the one she could really call her "true love, best friend" for the symbolism she'd found and treasured in it—a flicker of life and hope among the urbanization she thought of as her father's doings. Now, amidst the congregating villagers, the garden was merely a soft spot of a lost recollection of what she'd hoped for. That hope slipped from her once fond memory, and was crowded out almost completely by what she would have inserted into her memory in only a short while. She was angry, mad, upset all at once, yet resisted the temptation to vent it so. What would complaining do now, so close to the time in which she'd give her life away?

"You're beginning a new life, Katana—a better life." Without realizing the pun he'd inserted that could only mean anything to Katana—a better life, yes, _without_ you, Father—he continued his speech. "I hope you're happy with all I've done for you. I hope you realize the good I'm doing for you and this village. Please accept this humble truth to be the only one you know." He slightly bowed to her, yet she kept her gaze fixed as far from him mentally as possible, but hearing that word "truth" broke her immediate concentration on whatever it was she did to keep her mind so far from him. With heavy mind and heart, she glared her eyes and looked to him.

"Father, I haven't even _spoken_ with him."

"Oh, _that_," he nervously remembered. "There will be plenty of time for that when you join him on his journey back to his village.

Back to his village? _Another_ surprise? Well, _that_ was nothing new in particular. She'd come to expect that surprises weren't really a surprise anymore, they happened so often. It was only surprising when something that was planned came into occurrence. "You know this is not what I wish. Why are you doing this to me?"

He breathed, flustered. "So I see you have not accepted my truth. How very disappointing."

"I cannot accept a _lie_, Hayake," she gently hissed. "That's all that I've been living, isn't it? You're not all you say you are. You're just a selfish man, that's all. And I am not a stupid girl like you think me to be. _You're_ the fool."

He clenched his fist. Of course, he wouldn't hit her, would he? Not when she looked so much like _her_? _Her_. _Kokoro_. She was exactly what brought this stupid little girl into his life. He _hated_ them—both of them. They both messed up his ideal life, brought him to this ruin of an existence with the one he called daughter. With a flourish and a heavy force, he brought his angry fist down into the shoulder of an unsuspecting Katana. He didn't care how she laid on the balcony in a limp pile of gorgeous, pure white. She would be just fine in time for the wedding, just in time to get out of his life for good.

Life couldn't get better soon enough.

_The ceremony begins . . ._

Oh, of course there were plenty of people there, as Iruka observed from the room behind the wedding platform. People from all reaches of a fairly grand radius from the village, important people, people who were related to the Masamune family . . . yes, they were all here—all those Iruka had never seen before the day. Though Iruka floated on a lost hope of a familiar face among the sea of small, round tables, he kept his expectations fairly low, so as not to disappoint himself further. That way, things couldn't possibly get worse than they were presently.

Still, he kept his anger and frustration bottled, hardly thinking of its escape or effects. Nobody had to know how he felt at the moment, and he didn't need to share his misery with anyone else. In fact, he told himself reassuringly, I'll look at her and smile, let her know that nothing's going to go wrong. I'll let her know that I won't harm her or anything—

There was music now. Probably the typical wedding ceremony canon, or whatever it was to be called. And whatever it was, it signaled the beginning of this occasion—a rather forgettable one at that. Who could remember such a disaster?

He stood at the sight of a rising prestige in the room—Hayake, to be precise—and watched as it and the particularly obnoxious aura left the room and approached the platform on which the two strangers were to be wed. An odd ritual; Iruka had never really seen a wedding performed like this before. Nonetheless, he reviewed what he had been told to do and prayed he wouldn't commit an unforgivable blunder. That was the only way anything could get worse. So, keeping his chin high and adjusting his stiff, uncomfortable, almost foreign ensemble, he smiled for the fear ahead. Bring it on.

No words were spoken at the platform yet. What was going on? Hayake only looked around, then back frustratingly at the lost Iruka. Iruka's heart suddenly leapt at the fact that perhaps he'd done something wrong—and indeed, he did. Hayake rudely made a gesture that would bring the fearful foreigner to the platform. A stammered laugh was tied back into Iruka's brain as he made the trip to the platform and to the right side of the village ruler. Anything could cause the delicate balance between the music and inaudibility of the crowd to quiver now. Perfection was crucial. He couldn't make any mistakes for the moment—please wait until after the ceremony.

And now she was coming. She was a stunning show of brilliance and a sort of sophisticated beauty Iruka had not seen in her the night before. Almost floating down the grand stone staircase, she came into an unclear future and fate. Perhaps she was beautiful—but that said nothing about what she held so close to her. What was she _really_ like, if her father wanted to sell her off so quickly?

No matter. I'll treat her like any other self-respecting individual. I'll be good to her—whoever _she_ is. She deserves to have respect.

As she came closer, he noticed she maintained eye-contact with no one in particular, only kept her wide-eyed gaze entangled with another emotion—was it fear?—fixed to the ground. Closer, now, and it was revealed to Iruka that there was something a bit disheveled about her, like she'd just been roughhousing a bit, like she'd just taken a beating or something . . .

And in a thrill of sudden, momentary horror, he realized what had likely happened. Hayake had been alone with her up on the balcony only moments ago. Did he really _hit_ her? Iruka silently investigated the situation and watched as she stepped up onto the platform. She shied away at the open arms of her father, as if it were some place she had been forbidden to go. She did not want to go there, and for whatever reason, he caught her up in a false, fatherly embrace and released her. What was happening here? Was it true what Iruka had suspected? Did she really loathe her father so much at the moment so as to refuse or return a loving ceremonial embrace? What was really happening between these two? What was their history?

Did she really love him as a father? Did he really love her as his daughter?

"Iruka," old Hayake whispered. Snapping out of his trance, Iruka looked up and realized his thoughts had carried him away into some unknown territory where his mind had wandered and taken him away to keep him from realizing his next subtle hint at what to do. Ah, yes—he had to take her hands, now that she was in front of him.

Take her hands? But . . .

Hayake abruptly rested his hand on both of their shoulders, and as his hand came down to Katana, she jolted with a sudden brush of fear. Something was not right, and Iruka was not so stupid as to not realize the incorrectness of the situation.

Hayake then squeezed Iruka's shoulder, making him jump suddenly. He glanced to Hayake through the corner of his eye, just as the old man leaned in to Iruka and whispered, with a cold, harsh, yet silent tone, "Do you want to marry her or _what_?"

Oh, _that._ His tone frightened him into taking her hands in his—her frail, delicate hands . . . so fragile between his own. So small, so feminine to his stalwart presence. She was . . . _small_. Too skinny. Too _small_, or whatever it was.

Nonetheless, I'll treat her with respect. Such a promise brought him to remember he'd promised so before, promised to tell her with his gaze that everything would be alright. He would not harm her. He would not mistreat her. He would do none of this, even though she may be an entirely different being on the inside. Bravely and with intent, he straightened his back, softened his gaze to look at her with reassurance, but . . . she would not look up and him. She would not raise her head to look at him, only kept her confusion directed toward the ground. He sighed, almost frustratingly, then realized his promise. She deserves respect, because he didn't even know if she'd had any in her entire existence. Yet, because she didn't return his warm expression, he realized that this would not be necessarily easy, either.

"Today," Hayake boomed to the rather large crowd, startling the two shy, frightened strangers, "I give my daughter, Masamune Katana, a new life with the man she has chosen, Umuino Iruka, of the Fire Nation. She has chosen a good man, and I know the life ahead will be a very privilege occasion for both of them."

Applause. For what? The lie he was allowing his daughter and this Iruka to live? With every ensuing word—whatever they were, Iruka hardly cared—Iruka's relationship with this man was quickly deteriorating to reveal a slight loathing. Who was this man, anyway? Again, Iruka looked at her uneasily, persisted in allowing her the safety of his reassurance. Still, she averted her eyes from him. It was so hard to treat her with respect if she wouldn't at least acknowledge the favor. This was going to be rather difficult.

" . . . and for this, I wish them the best. I pray they will be happy with each other and the life they have chosen." Applause filled the air once again. Hayake bowed, remaining for all the attention he could acquire, then stepped from the platform and allowed another man—he was familiar to Iruka—to take his place. Was he some sort of priest or something? Yes—Iruka had seen him only the night before when Inori talked Iruka into this mess.

No, Iruka talked _himself_ into this mess. At least he had the gall to know he'd commit at least a minor mistake instead of heaping all the blame on another person. And this particular indication would mean so much to Katana, if only she'd actually known him for a while. This sweet, caring trait could do so much for them, if only it could be enacted. If only they knew.

No matter. The two only subconsciously listened as this "priest" gave the typical matrimonial speech, performed the marriage. Inside, Iruka began speaking with Katana, tried issuing her a few words that would comfort her and ease her fear. I won't hurt you, Katana. You will be safe with me.

She didn't answer, only kept looking toward the ground. How can I tell her? How can she learn that she will be safe with me?

Katana, he continued. After a moment's contemplation, he gently grasped her hands a bit tighter—ever so gently, it almost could have been a mistake.

She didn't know what to think. She was frightened and had no idea of what he was going to do with her after the ceremony. What would he do?

But, he was gentle with her.

Katana, I promise I will be as much of a husband as I can. I promise to never let another harm you, to keep you safe and make sure you will be happy with me—even though it _is_ only me, and I don't know how you could ever be happy with someone like me, but . . . I will do my best. I will see to it that you will be happy—

"It is finished," the priest said solemnly. "We pray for the happiness in your lives, and we pray you will be at peace."

Silence filled the air, which made Iruka uneasy once more. Had he made a mistake? Oh, now he'd completely forgotten what he was supposed to do. He glanced past Katana to Hayake, who almost angrily was making an odd motion with his arms—the embrace, of course!

The embrace. The embrace that would bring Iruka and Katana together as partners. But . . .

I promised to make her happy, to be the best husband I can. I cannot take that back now. I would be looked down upon with great dishonor, and the people—

No, Katana would be upset. I promised to be a good husband, as good a husband as I am capable.

But this move was so difficult. Why did he find himself dumbfounded with difficulty, writhing for comfort? Why was it so hard to accept her now, when he was almost there?

I promised . . .

He didn't smile, no; but he slowly brought his arms down to fit around the delicate curves of her back, and slowly he tightened his grip around her frail body. I look so stupid giving a one-sided embrace. How idiotic . . .

It took a moment, but she _did_ reach her arms up to conform behind his back and up around his broad shoulders, and rested her head soft against him. More at ease with himself, Iruka held her closer, and . . . he _wanted_ to tell her all he'd rehearsed in his heart, but . . . he found it too difficult. Would she really accept him for who he was? Would she really understand what was happening inside of him that so closely bound her to him already? Truthfully, it was a rather difficult task. It was not easy to speak so lightly and gently to a complete stranger. Rather than tell her with fumbling words, he merely held her a bit closer.

She, unsure of what to expect, began to release her suppressed emotions as a surreal applause, along with a sudden flash of reality, filled the air. With a blurry longing, she wanted to remain there, feeling safety and security, but remembered that life would not be easy just yet.

And then, with her rising emotions, she remembered Kori. Where was he?

With a reluctant release, she exited the embrace and glanced across the flood of people to the garden entrance, hoping to see the one she truly loved standing there, timing his tactics in rescuing her from the life she was falling into.

But he was not there.

All was lost. This realization hit her as the priest showed them off the platform, Iruka allowing her to go before him. Amidst the rising applause and dense feeling of sorrow growing on the wind, she cried.

_Katana's last memory of her miserable life . . ._

I'm leaving, Katana told herself in the mirror. I'm going for good, and I'm not going with Kori.

She looked at herself one last time, adorned in a simple outfit she'd often worn. Nothing more than a simple blue oriental blouse and a long, conservative skirt. She looked odd to herself, wearing her hair so formally, yet adorning a now casual outfit.

Oh, how would this all work out? How does he see me? Will he even be happy with someone like me—a stubborn, selfish girl my father's always marked me as?

How could _he _ever be happy with _me_ if my father's been so unhappy with me?

"Katana," whispered a seemingly sullen, yet beautifully adorned Inori. Katana turned to see her beloved sister approaching her in the room where she would spend her last moments in this village as Masamune Katana. She was now Umuino Katana, and all now seemed lost in that name—hopes, dreams, and her precious Kori. Why wasn't he there? Why didn't he save her from the clutches of cruel fate and harm? These regretful imaginings all disappeared in the embrace she suddenly shared with her little sister, the only person she truly loved now. The only way to escape her hate, fear, and sadness.

"I will miss you, Inori," she sniffed. "I will come back to see you, and maybe you could come to see me sometime."

It was a worthless idea. Katana knew it could never happen.

So, sullenly, she picked up her only bag containing all she wanted from this life, and left the room she'd slept in for most of her life. Now things were different. Now she led a new life. With one final goodbye, she left Inori crying in the bedroom. Katana would probably never see the sweet little girl ever again.

And Katana cried as she worked her way to the lobby where she'd probably never set foot again. There, she would meet her husband and go away with him to a foreign land with foreign people and foreign surroundings. Even _he_ was foreign to her. She almost cried harder, yet remembered her promise to be strong and courageous.

No longer could she handle it. She walked down the stairs—she dared not take the elevator, for it would only cut the time of the life she knew shorter. Once on a landing, making sure she was alone, she fell to her knees.

And she cried. He couldn't see her like this, so she had to work it all out of herself now. He could not see her weak. That would only hurt our fragile, young relationship, and that's the last thing we can afford.

_A long awaited and dreaded departure . . ._

"She should be any minute," Hayake assured. "She's probably just dawdling, that's all. She's always had a habit of doing that."

Whatever. Iruka sighed, allowing one part of him to silently hope that she'd never come down. That would make everything better wouldn't it?

No. I promised her . . .

"Ah, my Katana, dear," Hayake suddenly bellowed. Iruka looked up to see her coming down the marble stairs and into the presence of Hayake and her new husband. When Hayake went to accept her in an embrace, she merely stopped before him, moved aside to get around him. She then reached up and rubbed her shoulder, remembering the beating she'd taken earlier that morning. Hayake mumbled something to himself, turned around with a smile. "I suppose you are ready, now?"

Iruka nodded. "Yes." Fumbling a bit, he stooped down to pick up his two bags. He dreaded the thought of having to walk into the town on the coast with these things bearing him down. Couldn't they have gotten a ride there or something?

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" The old man almost laughed. Katana knew he was only urgent to get rid of her before anything else, so she began walking toward the door.

"Thank you, Master Hayake. For everything." Iruka's comment wasn't necessarily rude, but it wasn't very direct, either. He didn't want to remain in the pompous man's presence any longer than was needed, and seeing no need to remain, he picked up his bags and walked to the door.

The two were rather surprised at the crowd that would see them out of town. Neither of them really knew why such a large group of people would be needed to do so, but neither of them really cared, either. They only walked through the cheering throng, and Iruka almost hated it. Did they really have to have that? Still, the two persisted through and to the edge of the urbanization. Now, they were leaving. Leaving hatred, loathing, and everything else they'd acquired in the city. Katana turned around one last time to see the life she'd be leaving behind. It wasn't much to miss, but . . . she _would_ miss a few attributes of it, nonetheless. She also knew she couldn't go back—she wasn't really wanted there, and she felt it. What good would it do?

So, bag in hand, she gave one last solemn wave, turned to her husband, and followed him down the road into a new life.

Hopefully, a better one. But, then again, how could it be worse than the one she'd been living?

A new, dim hope ahead, she followed her husband—followed _Iruka_ down that road. Reluctantly, yet hopefully.

**Okay, I'll try to have another chapter done by next week. Happy Holidays! And thank you so much for reading!**


	5. Throng

**It's short, but if you're smart, you'll pick up on a lot of hidden meanings and symbolism. This took forever to write because I just didn't know how to say some of the stuff, but after I talked with a good friend of mine on the meaning of families and what it is to love, everything just sort of clicked. Thanks for your help. I know it'll probably be tedious, but just try to read it. It gets better and more "romantic" from here.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**The Throng**

Their voyage had begun. And they both knew somewhere in their subconscious mentality that nothing would be easy anymore. Ahead lay the rumors, the criticism, the embarrassment . . . but even deeper within their subconscious selves, they knew that if they cleaved to one another, they would surely pull through to a new horizon that lay peering over the ever-distant border; however, this assurance was deep enough to remain a hidden artifact that only their selflessness and valor would uncover, assuming its time was at hand.

And that would probably be a while's wait, but worth it. And sadly enough, their burden was almost as physical as it was emotional and mental.

Yes, they struggled, but he more than she. Like a pack animal, he had thought of himself, yet was wise enough not to allow such a ridiculous outburst; it might make his face even redder than the sun had made it—although now, it was fading into quite a flattering tan that avoided the shadow his sunglasses had cast on that day . . .

But nonetheless, they pushed onward. She, remaining quite a bit behind him, kept her gaze concentrated on his feet so as to avoid whatever he might have to avoid. She dare not look up at him.

And he, struggling under the weight of his own mind, kept pressing on. Press on, he told himself. Keep walking. Don't look back. Nothing behind you can be changed, so look ahead. Soon I will be heading home, and then I'll be _at_ home—

With her. Whatever am I going to do about her? If I could only pack her away in a cabinet or something like and old, unwanted gift, and then double gift her . . .

How did I get trapped in this lame situation, anyway? What kind of man am I to be treated like this?

The village ahead was always in sight, but now as it was only a short distance away, he felt as if they were finally getting there. The distance they had just walked wasn't all too great, but the endurance of time became unbearably lethargic as a result of the dread they experienced.

Iruka scolded himself. It'll only make it worse if I complain about it. I can't afford for this to be any worse.

But what will the Hokage think? Will he think me immoral? A traitor? A _failure? _What will it do for my position as a chuunin? My job? My social status?

But I was only doing what we've all been taught: to accept any reward if they feel so inclined to do it. And he _had,_ when he was told it was a "great" reward, even if it was a bit unexpected.

"We're getting closer," he muttered in a happily played tone of voice. "It'll be nice to be headed home—" He stopped himself a bit short, remembering that her home was left behind. It was in the past. It couldn't be changed. She could never really go home. As if to apologize he slowed with a sigh, turned to face her with a somewhat mournful expression upon his face. She had stopped as he had, clutching her own small bag a few possessions within, her own face turned toward the dust at his feet. At such a sight of emotion and pity, he beat himself with all the silent, self-directed anger he could muster, reminding himself that it was probably high-time he stepped out of his own selfish circle and invited himself into the real world. Other people existed. Other people had problems. The least he could do was try to help someone out, rather than fester in his own self-centered universe and rot to a miserable nothingness.

With graphic remorse, he put these thoughts into the back of his head where he would never forget them.

I'm sorry, he meant to say. I'm sorry I've been a selfish fool. I'm sorry I didn't care.

These apologies on his countenance, he stepped forward, nearer to her. She looked up serenely, wondering of his actions. When he held out his trembling hand to her, she only stared at his eyes. His eyes . . . so sad, so lost.

Just like . . . me.

Here they were, both wondering _why_ they were standing in the very breath of this town, heading toward a place they both hardly recognized as a home, whether they had or hadn't, for upon arrival, it would be an entirely different place than from what they ever would have recognized. They would bring a foreign spirit and situation to that home only to change whatever it had been before.

The ambience radiating from the ocean side streets was drowned out in the heavy hum of concentration, shaded out of existence, and then it was only them. She looked at him, and somewhere, a slight connection was made. She wouldn't be alone whenever with him anymore.

While she lay contemplating in his eyes, he simply used that outstretched hand, gently took her only pack from her, relieving her of at least some weight. In that same instant, the crowded streets returned to life, reminding them of their impending journey.

He took her pack upon himself, along with all the other things he held, atop his own weight. A smile twitched into his face as he turned and pressed on once more, into the bustling streets. She followed, her head and spirits held higher, yet remained behind, lost in the reality of what had just happened. Why would he do such a thing?

Inside, she smiled, laughed in relief of fear and embarrassment and uncertainty.

And together, they pressed on toward the village's edge, both a bit more eager for the opportunity to begin a new life for themselves. Onward they went into the hum of a crowded path, where it most certainly wouldn't take very long to become separated from the other.

This thought tempted Iruka, but he gently pushed it from his mind. I need to look past myself, get out of my own selfish mindset.

A few villagers were as burdened physically as Iruka was, some with boxes or packs thrown over their backs, some with small children in their arms or bolstered atop their shoulders. This scene set Iruka back into his mind, searching for a connection. What held these people together? What is it that makes these people happy with what they have? Is their situation better than that of mine, or are these children they carry loved and wanted and cared for?

What a closely-bound village. Everyone here doesn't have a lot, but what they do have is their families. They support each other and love each other. So regardless of what I may or may not want, I need to work things out for her.

Isn't that what it should all be about? People just caring for one another, so someone will always be there to care for you, even if it isn't yourself? If you're always looking out for someone else, you don't need to worry for yourself. What a grand idea for a Utopian society. Why don't I just rule the world?

It didn't really hit him that he was thinking too much until he found himself on the edge of the bustle, in the open area of the portside streets, suddenly separated from one of his possessions: Katana. Where had she gone to? Was she left there in the crowd or did she purposefully run away? At this, without any other thoughts, he dropped his and Katana's belongings, prepared to dive back into the crowd to retrieve her.

Where was Iruka-san? He was just there—

Apparently the man she had been following was _not_ Iruka, and she came to the quick and brutal conclusion that she really was lost, and it wasn't very likely that she could be found easily. Should she stay there and wait for him to return? Or would he just leave her like she knew he so easily could and probably longed to?

She turned—people. People busily pushing past and running into her. People eyeing her with odd intent on their faces, and some with wrong intent. Some, even though she didn't want to see it, with an eerie feeling that, emitted, made her feel more sick than lost. People were everywhere, but they were all cold. She couldn't take to them any more easily than they would her.

Again she shifted to the side. In an attempt to avoid an oncoming man, she was shoved aside by other passers-by. A rude comment, a gesture, and improper physical contact were provided, and she wanted out.

I can't get out. Do I even want to? I could just disappear. No one would ever know where I went. I _am _only a stupid, unwanted girl, anyway.

Sternly, she put forward an aggressive expression and fell away into the crowd. A strange sensation overcame her—what was it, freedom?—and with that, she pressed back, leaving behind her everything she was, everything she had. Her identity, her past, and whatever else it was she had or knew were now drowned out in this bustling crowd. No one knew her anymore. No one could find her. She was free. Nothing was holding her back from moving ahead to a new life—

When, as if by a miracle, she was relieved of this temptation, she found herself suddenly in front of her savior, the man she had known as Iruka-san. He was concerned, not angry, and with a protective sense, he sternly took her by the hand and pulled her from the throng. He took a sort of pride and led her behind him, holding her as closely as he could.


	6. So Much Peace in Here

**I noticed I've been slacking. Due to this fact, I have 1) not updated for almost four months, and 2) really gotten lazy with my chapters. This one's only about 1641--VERY low for what I'm accustomed to. I've had a lot more things on my plate than have been easy to handle, but nonetheless, I have been slacking.**

**This chapter is somewhat heartfelt. It's definitely my favorite so far, despite the sloppy parts in the middle (you can probably point them out), but I hope you enjoy it all the less.**

**Also, while writing this chapter, I've come to realize that the reason girls like chick ficks so much is because the guys in the movies are unrealistically compassionate. Girls are compassionate, so I think that's why there is such a strong attraction to "sensitive" guys. I think Iruka, in general, is a pretty sensitive guy, so it works for this particular situation. Even though it _is_ a bit sappy,I still like it because it's unrealistic.**

**So, here it is, in all its glory--Chapter 6.

* * *

**

Chapter 6

So Much Peace in Here

The worn harbor eyed the approaching couple with a sense of wonder and curiosity, wondering what it was and whatever it was that held these two together. There was one man in particular who, standing at the gangway on the portside of the small ship, eyed their coming, assuming that this was where they wanted to be. They were on their way back to the Fire Nation, probably on their way home because of the holiday conclusion at hand. She seemed a bit unfamiliar with a few things, however; the way she floated behind the man, and how she seemed to be lost, looking around for something she could not find. Keeping her gaze constantly nowhere while he looked ahead, she wore the inevitably obvious disguise that something wasn't right with either her situation or who the man was that she followed.

They came closer to the gangway, and as they were almost upon it, the young man with the raccoon tan about his face slowed and looked back, waiting for the young woman to catch her pace near his side. They then came up to the man who'd been observing them with intent.

"Good afternoon, sir," Iruka said plainly. The ticket man nodded slowly in reply, greeted the girl with the wandering gaze. Iruka then fumbled around in his pocket and after what seemed quite a while, he pulled from it two slips of paper indicating their destination. He checked them a final time before presenting them to the ticket man, who routinely received them and ripped them in half. Stepping aside and ushering them up the gangway, he wished them a wonderful trip.

Iruka nodded in thanks. He could have at least offered to help with the load.

So up they went into the ship, assuming their previous positions in this small caravan they piloted. The man at the entrance watched them, and before the couple entered the ship, he called up to them one last comment and word of advice.

"You're just going to have to help yourself out sometimes. Don't always expect someone to help you."

Iruka heard; all that was his reply was rolling his eyes, but the man behind them knew just what he was thinking. And he watched them depart into the belly of the ship.

The man cackled, commented indirectly to the next people approaching him. "I'm just a regular old jackass, aren't I?"

* * *

The trip wouldn't be too long, so only a minimally-sized cabin was provided. There was a bathroom, shared by about eight rooms' residents, down the hallway, and the living conditions were livable enough. Neither spoke a word. 

Iruka stumbled into the room with his load and immediately dumped it to the small, open floor below. It was nice to have that off his shoulders. With a comical sigh and laugh of relief, he crashed onto the bed and closed his eyes.

Katana stood by, eyeing the pile of belongings carelessly strewn across the ground. Then, almost dutifully, she knelt and began assigning the cargo a new destination in the over-bed cabinets. When Iruka observed this, he scolded himself for being lazy and left the bed to help her with a task he'd blindly assigned her.

"Sorry," he began, uncomfortable with the silence. "I didn't mean for you to pick up after me—"

"No, it's okay. I'm used to it." She continued with her task, as if Iruka hadn't said a word.

"No, I mean it. Just sit back and I'll get it all put away—it's mostly my stuff anyway, and I need to learn to not be so lazy."

"No, really, it's okay—I'm fine, I can do it—"

Iruka felt fairly awkward, trying to take something from her, even though she struggled with it. She kept diligent in her chore, but eventually, they both were incorporated into the work, and she didn't fight it anymore. Iruka received what she would pick up and put it away in the small storage unit above the bed, and when all was finished, he sat back down. Still standing, Katana avoided his gaze.

Ugh. I'm so inconsiderate, he told himself, and immediately stood and offered is seat on the bed. She probably wasn't all too comfortable with him just yet, anyway.

He stood with a grunt and gestured to the bed. "I don't need to be sitting—"

"No, it's not like I've really done anything too strenuous today. You've done all the work, so you should be sitting. I'm just fine right here."

Iruka suddenly lost hope of winning this fight, but still he prodded. "No, I'm okay. You really—"

"No, it's okay, thank you."

He grew slightly impatient with this, yet kept his self-control from rampancy and thought more on her resistance. "I'm not going to sit anyway. I, uh, was just running upstairs to see if I can get something for me—us, to eat. You must be famished, and all this worry probably doesn't help at all. I'll be back with something for us in a bit." Nervously, he turned through the door, pulled it closed behind him, only realizing his rudeness before he was locked from her and his mistake couldn't be corrected. He then peered back into the room at her, kept his gaze for a minute, thinking about her.

She turned to see him again. "Yes?"

With a gentle smile and sigh, "Do you want to come with me? I didn't mean to keep you here."

It must have worked on her mind for a moment, for she only looked at him a moment, then finally refused the invitation, embarrassed. "I'm fine, thank you. I'll just be here when you return. And—" Iruka looked back into the room one last time, looked back at her. Again she lowered her face, nervously appointing her manners. "Thank you, again."

A final smile from him, and he shut the door. She watched as her sight of Iruka diminished and the listened for the click that signaled her being alone in the room. For a moment, she knew not what to do with herself, was only left to herself to relax and ponder. Nothing really to worry about. Nothing really to do for anyone else but herself. She almost smiled giddily at the thought that she only really had to worry about herself, and she wasn't necessarily a high-maintenance being.

But what about Iruka-san? He's off doing something for me, isn't there something I can be doing for him? With this thought, she began to turn down the sheets on the bed and ready it for his weary body to retire there.

Iruka, on the other hand, was concerned about how she was feeling. As he stood in line at the kitchen, he began wondering about how she would take to a sleeping arrangement that night. He knew she would refuse the bed and that she would rather he slept in it, so it was likely that they would both end up on the floor that night. He sighed at the dilemma. She's been treated so poorly her whole life that she thinks she doesn't deserve anything.

But I'll show her she's really worth something, somehow. I'll treat her well. It won't be easy to change her mind.

Iruka finally came back to the world around him and found himself staring into a pair of all-too-perturbed eyes. The woman glared wearily at him as he signaled the number two with his hand, and she provided him with two bowls of . . . something. Some sort of soup with beef or something or the other. Whatever. He smiled and thanked her for her apparent trouble as she provided him with two pairs of chopsticks, then turned and went on his way downstairs with the two bowls in his hands. Knowing my luck, he grinned, I'll trip and go a-sailing down these stairs. That would be good.

He finally came to the room, only to remember he was locked out, so he resorted to kicking the door with his feet to let her know he'd returned and needed a bit of help getting back into the room. After doing so, she promptly answered the door and ushered him in.

"Thank you, very much," she thanked him before e even really handed her the bowl. When he did, she held it and kept standing there. He was waiting for her to sit down so he would know what to do. But, as he expected, she waited for him to take action before she dare do anything. He then sighed and slid to the floor, his back resting against the wall. She sat opposite of him and faced to the side, to which he moved over and sat against the bed in order to face her. This took her quite by surprise, but to hide her uncertainty and confusion, she began to eat, this action also taken by Iruka. He made a face.

"You'd think they'd have to apply some sort of health code to this food," he jested. She only kept eating, only allowed a trace of a smile through which he could hardly see.

"It's food, anyway," she replied, took another bite. "I've never really had anything like this before."

"Nor I. I wonder if this is even really beef, but it's really not too bad."

She seized up at the thought, watched as he took another bite. A smile peered through on his face as he looked back down. A feeling of comfort and reassurance came over her at this, and she relaxed enough to smile herself.

He set his bowl to the floor and stretched. "I'm tired. It'll be nice to finally sleep in my own bed tomorrow night."

"I made up the bed for you. I knew you would probably be—you must be tired. Why don't you get some sleep?" Her concern for his wellness was apparent; that, or she was used to treating people this way.

"Naw, thank you anyway, but I'll be okay just . . . on the floor. Why don't you sleep in the bed tonight? You could sleep better in there, anyway. I'm used to sleeping on the floor."

She didn't sound too disappointed, but her persistence was still quite apparent as she insisted that he sleep in the bed because he'd been working all day. He then countered her attack by insisting that she was the lady and that she deserved anything before him. At this comment, she shrank back a bit and looked to the ground. "I insist. I don't need it." Emotion suddenly took control of her voice. She set her bowl down and drew her knees into her chest. As if by instinct, Iruka leaned over closer to her to hear what was on her mind.

"What makes you think that? Of course you do." Hoping he sounded genuinely concerned, he allowed her to continue. When she said nothing, he asked, "Why do you feel that way?"

Face buried in her knees, she took a deep, shaky breath. Her body trembled, and though he couldn't see her face, he knew she was probably uneasy and emotional about this. So, as gently and reassuringly as he could, he balanced on the balls of his feet and leaned in to touch her back. She tensed at this and he took his hand away to let her regain herself.

Surprisingly, it was only a short moment more before she brought herself out of the depths of her sorrowful soul. She sat up and looked forward, not at him, but forward, nonetheless, instead of down below where she should be. "I guess I just didn't really have the most nurturing father. But there _were_ people who loved me. Hana was always there for me and practically cared for me from the day I was born."

Hmmm. A bit of insight to her past. "What about your mother?"

"She died. Giving birth to me." Though she asserted this point, Iruka didn't feel this was very true or that she believed it much, either. "But father and Hana insisted that I looked more like him, anyway. He always tells me there's not much of her in me."

Iruka smiled. "I knew my parents only till I was still fairly young. They both left me when a demon attacked our village. They were killed in an attempt to stop it. I used to be very bitter about their leaving me at so young an age, but I've grown to accept it more and more. It's helped to make me who I am today."

She questioned him even with her look. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he grunted as he stretched, "it's helped me to learn faster how to care for myself and how to . . . really, just to find who I really am. I think what truly makes people who they are is the problems they face and how they decide to handle them and learn from them. That's why some of us never really grow; we never get the chance to."

To her surprise, she whole-heartedly agreed with him. She'd known this all along, but she couldn't quite persuade herself that she'd really taken this information to heart. Looking back, she regretted not really trying to grow from her situation rather than fester in her pity and feel sorry for herself. "I think I could have done better, then. I haven't really been too strong with my situation."

"You aren't alone," he laughed. "I'm not exactly a selfless person. I think I've learned to be a little self-centered.

"But you're not—"

Iruka looked up when she didn't continue. She sighed, and silence ensued, enveloping the room and persuading them to think on this situation. How could their flaws be worked out to help the other? Katana looked over Iruka, over the bed and through the small window revealing a saddening sky under the looming fall of night. Soon they would sleep, but where? Trying to forget this issue, she changed their topic of conversation.

"As much as I won't miss home, I'm going to miss a few things. I'll miss Hana and Inori. I'll miss the atmosphere."

Hearing her talk of her home allowed Iruka to think back on his home and how he missed it. He missed his classes, his small apartment, and even that blasted Naruto kid. "I'll be glad to finally get there again. I miss it, but I wanted to get away from it so much."

She secluded a laugh with a tweak at the corners of her mouth. Another period of silence began, yet she didn't want to break it.

Iruka felt differently. "So is there really anything you're interested in? Did you have a job, or anything?"

"Not really. Just tended to whoever needed anything."

"I'm a school teacher at the ninja academy in Konoha village. I put up with a lot of demands from snotty little kids, and sometimes I can get really sick of them, but then I understand them. I was that way once, always wanting attention and what not. I missed out on having parents to give me attention, so I went around begging for it and acting like a stupid little fool everywhere I went. Was there anything you even wanted to do? Anything you had on your mind to keep you going? Something to think about when you considered your future?"

"Nothing, really . . . but Hana always told me I had a thing for caring for people." The mood in the room suddenly changed as Iruka listened more closely to her as she spoke about herself. She relaxed a bit, continued with a smile hidden in her eyes. "When Inori was born, I was the one who took care of her. My father didn't want much to do with her care, and Hana admitted that babies weren't necessarily in her field. So it was I who took care of her. I bathed her, I clothed her, I held her through the night when she cried."

"What about her mother? Where was she all this time?"

Katana's expression slackened into a more disappointed appearance. "Who knows? Father had a thing for not caring much about people, or the consequences of choices he made, or what he did that would hurt other people. He was a selfish person." Iruka noted the sudden change in her tone of voice as she freely expressed her opinions about a once forbidden topic. Did she really think so lowly of her father, yet was restrained from ill-speaking until she was finally freed?

Not like it was a bad thing. She was opinionated, very forward, unafraid to express what was on her mind. In other words, she was too big for the cage she'd been living in all her life. She was tied from herself while living with her father all those years. There were stakes holding her back from expressing herself, developing her abilities. How could someone so strong be kept so dormant?

Already he was learning so much about her. He wondered if she thought likewise.

Iruka understood when he saw Katana yawn. He, too, was quite tired. Never did he stand from the floor, though. And she, like he, remained. There was a lack of trust between the two for her to be comfortable enough to sleep in the same bed with him, so it was either he or she who would sleep in the bed. Iruka knew he wouldn't win this one, so without much left on his mind or anything to say, he reclined on the floor, mumbled to himself about how he needed to rest, and wished Katana a good night.

It was the first time in a while she'd felt so at ease with someone as strange to her as this Iruka figure. He, too, came across as so relaxed in their conversation—a relaxation that grew even more lax as it continued. In that time, she learned a lot about someone she'd have to learn more of. Such a daunting task couldn't be made easier with anyone besides this increasingly lovable fellow.

She looked at the rising and falling of his chest and tried to decide whether or not he was really asleep by now. By the depth and frequency of breaths, she concluded he was not yet asleep, but simply worn to the point of deep relaxation. He was awake, but fairly unaware of that fact. She, too, was tired, and envied him for the state he was in, but the extent of her comfort would only allow her to lean back against the wall and allow her eyes to flutter to a close. Even until the last moment of light before blackness, she could only think of and see him, try to imagine what the upcoming weeks, months, maybe years would bring. With Iruka. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. She relaxed about it, and it was at that point when she relaxed that she actually fell into a deep, undisturbed slumber.

* * *

For a good part of the night, he just laid there with his eyes closed and listened to whatever was around him. His thoughts piloted him at this time, and with the time he was provided, he allowed himself to recall what he'd learned in the conversation he shared with his newly-wed companion. She was something entirely different than what he expected. 

Before he realized he'd actually sunken away to a good three hours of sleep, he heard a thrashing of rain pounding the side of the ship, the thunder and wind driving passengers from the open air into their cabins until the watery threat had receded or they landed in port. He allowed a slit of blue, sad light enter his eyelids for a moment. Gazing out the window from his position on the floor, he pondered on the situation. Pondered, and remained silent for longer than his attention would normally keep him. He then looked back to where Katana was seated and saw that she had curled up on the floor in the shadow of the bed she'd turned down for him. For a moment, he felt slightly ungrateful, but forgot the thought and sat up, rolled onto the balls of his feet and stood up. The numbness from sleep wore off quickly, and he walked the short distance to her and just looked.

There was something particularly captivating about this sight. Something was . . . beautiful about it. The way her dark hair flipped in unintended directions about her head, covered the floor and swept over her shoulder just across her sleeping face. The light hit her face so it accented her eyebrows, opening up her sullen face into a sort of cloudy hope that might be what lay ahead of her. She was so peaceful. There was no turmoil, only the simple pleasures that inhabited her dreams.

He did not want to move her. He wanted to remember this for a long time. If I am to remember Katana, this woman, my _wife_, this is how I want to remember her.

Always. I never want to forget.

For just a moment more, he remained captivated by the serene splendor. His eyes welled for a moment. Swallowing hard, he leaned down, and gently picked her up. She fit so perfectly there in his arms, and he almost didn't want to let go, but he willingly laid her body on the bed and allowed her to naturally assume a comfortable position. He delicately brushed the hair from her face, and in one last gesture to express his overwhelming emotion, he bent down closer to her face. He waited there a moment.

With only slight hesitation, he kissed her forehead.

He didn't want to leave her for sleep. Not now. He couldn't. To ease this fear, he walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, gazed out the window. I hope she trusts me enough to know I don't want to violate her, or hurt her . . .

I just want to be with her.

In the light cast by a saddened sky, a tear flickered as it slowly descended to the corner of his mouth.

What would happen after this night? If she chooses to leave, I may recover, but I would never forget . . . all we've been through. It's only been a short while, but all I've learned . . .

So much toil outside . . .

So much peace in her . . .

* * *

**Yes, there _is _a sort of pun in the end. The chapter title is "So Much Peace in Here." The last line of the chapter is, "So Much Peace in _her_ . . ." So sappy! I love it like strawberry waffles from IHOP!**


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